“All right, George, but it’s your party—let that be clearly understood.”
“You could, I feel sure, if you chose, exercise your considerable charm.”
Virginia cocked her head a little on one side.
“George, dear, I don’t ‘charm’ as a profession, you know. Often I like people—and then, well, they like me. But I don’t think I could set out in cold blood to fascinate a helpless stranger. That sort of thing isn’t done, George, it really isn’t. There are professional sirens who would do it much better than I should.”
“That is out of the question, Virginia. This young man, he is a Canadian, by the way, of the name of McGrath——”
“A Canadian of Scotch descent,” says she, deducing brilliantly.
“Is probably quite unused to the higher walks of English society. I should like him to appreciate the charm and distinction of a real English gentlewoman.”
“Meaning me?”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”